The Detective's Son and The Doctor's Daughter
by TheDhampir
Summary: London was once considered normal, until the Doctor found someone to settle down and start a family with, but even then nothing was really dangerous, not even when a certain consulting detective and army doctor moved to Baker Street with their son. Ten years later, a string of serial suicides reveals a ruthless danger by the name of Jim Moriarty.


**A/N Prologue-y prologue is a prologue.**

Prologue: A Time Lord, A Wolf, A Consulting Detective and A Doctor

Normal means a lot of different things to different people. To most people, a normal family night might consist of a board game or a couple hours of telly. For Dylan Cooper, a normal family night involves human thumbs, a microscope, and about a gallon of milk. To most people, a normal day off of school might mean going to the cinema with friends. For Dylan Cooper, a normal day off of school involves solving murders and evading his uncle's cameras - although, going to the cinema isn't completely off the table. To most people, a normal morning consists of a quick bite and everyone rushing off to school or work for the day. For Dylan Cooper, that is not always the case.

"Sherlock, stop playing that blasted violin and help me with cleaning the kitchen, would you?"

"John, you know Mrs. Hudson detests any and all shouting before nine. Please, keep your voice down."

It wasn't that much different from the arguments that usually woke Dylan in the morning, the only real variations being what needed to be cleaned or dealt with and whether Sherlock was experimenting or sitting or shooting at walls - that was still a fairly common occurance - but the fact that the daily arguement had taken place after seven o' clock was a nice change. But it was still early enough that it woke him. "Is it really too much to ask that there's quiet until nine? I don't think it is."

His sarcasm could very well be inherited from the family he'd barely known before he'd begun living with them, but John's theory was that he spends too much time with Sherlock. "Dylan, what have I said about watching your tone?" The teen rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen and headed toward the refrigerator for milk. "And again with the eyes."

"I hate people and sarcasm is my only defense." Yes, the trait was definitely learned. "Besides, it's hardly my fault you wake me before my alarm every morning. I'd get enough sleep if you didn't." Finding the top shelf of the door empty, he let out a sigh and shook his head. "I have to get ready or I'll be late. I'll pick up milk on my way home."

John was about to ask where he had to rush off to at eight in the morning on a Saturday when the violin playing detective across the room put the instrument away and started in on an explanation. "He set his alarm for seven thirty this morning, John - Dylan's been awake for half an hour. To get up that early on a weekend, it has to be something important. He doesn't have school, and he have no interest in sports so it's not a game. It's clearly somewhere he's willingly running off to. His phone is in his pocket, but there's also the outline of his wallet, which doesn't do much to narrow it down, but it's enough. Then there's his appearance - hair fixed but just messy enough to look effortless, button up shirt but with another shirt underneath and no buttons done, again more effort to try and show less effort. He's meeting someone, someone he wants to impress but not be obvious about it. It doesn't take much thought, John; he's obviously meeting Lily."

Two pairs of eyes stared at him for a moment before Dylan shook his head from the doorway while making his escape. "Do you have to do this every weekend?"

"Have to? No, but I do enjoy it. Don't forget the milk."

*DSDD*

Lillian Tyler's normal family night doesn't consist of telly and board games or microscopes and thumbs; her normal day off of school doesn't consist of going to the cinema with friends or solving murders; her normal morning doesn't contain a quick breakfast and dashing out the door or arguments as her alarm clock. Her life is much more fun. Family night is learning to use a sonic screwdriver; a day off of school is TARDIS flight training; a morning is her father's French toast and hot cocoa. Weekends are her favorite because she gets all three, and maybe a day trip to another planet or an ancient war - except for the days when she gets to set her alarm early. She still got French toast and cocoa, and toying with a sonic screwdriver is never optional, but with her plans, there's no time for trips or even stepping foot inside the time ship.

But there's always time for a bit of fun before she goes.

With a single click of a button, a blue beam shot out of the head of the screwdriver and missed its target entirely when the chair under her feet fell back and she landed on the floor, a green ray of light ending up going far above her head. "Busy morning, I see." Two heads turned at the sound of one Rose Tyler's voice and then two pairs of footsteps moved only steps toward her. "Honestly, Doctor, two regenerations in seventeen years is a bit much, isn't it? Especially for our daughter."

"Why does she get to be ginger on the third try? I'm on my eleventh and my hair is still too dark; it's just not fair."

Just as he finished the sentence, a hand ran through his messy hair and his pink and yellow human shook her head. "I'm not letting either of you regenerate again this year. And if you do, just know you'll have to woo me all over again."

There's just barely enough time for Lily to deposit the sonic screwdriver into its designated drawer of the table by the door and grab her house key to make a break for the door before they could start their own morning ritual of tea and snogging.


End file.
